The Depths of the Slums

Pralaya stared at the cracked wall, impressed by his own strength.

"I need to find a way out of this house to test my ability, but Father isn't letting me out anytime soon."

His gaze shifted toward the window, and an idea formed in his mind—sneaking out. It was definitely going to come back and bite him later, but right now, he didn't care.

As he gathered his things, a thought crossed his mind—the Cursed Mask. Almost as if responding to him, the mask materialized in his right hand.

"I completely forgot about this thing," he muttered.

He slipped the mask over his face and stepped toward the window, preparing to jump out. But the moment he looked down, reality hit him.

"Damn... I forgot. I'm on the ninth floor."

His family home was high up in one of the many rundown apartment complexes of the slums. If he didn't want to turn into a corpse splattered across the alleyway below, he needed to find a safer way down.

That's when another thought came to him.

"What if I cover my entire body in karmic energy? It should offer some protection, right?"

Channeling his karmic energy, he focused on spreading it throughout his body. A surge of warmth spread through him as translucent energy coated his skin. Without even realizing it, Pralaya had begun molding the energy, shaping it into something more refined instead of letting it flow uncontrollably.

Looking down at his hands, he saw the karmic energy forming a protective layer, almost like a second skin. His entire body felt stronger—more resilient.

Taking a deep breath, he looked outside the window again, locking his eyes onto the next building below.

"I hope I make this jump... I don't even want to imagine what'll happen if I miss."

To gain momentum, he ran back to the door, took a deep breath, then sprinted forward.

With one powerful leap, he launched himself out of the window, soaring through the air.

The feeling was exhilarating. The wind rushed against his body, his heart pounded wildly in his chest, and instead of fear, all he felt was pure excitement. He was completely ignoring the fact that if he failed, he'd end up as a smear on the ground.

A moment later—impact.

He landed on the next building with ease. His knees bent slightly to absorb the shock, but to his surprise, he barely felt anything.

"I thought that was going to hurt more," he muttered, flexing his fingers.

He had successfully escaped.

As Pralaya stepped onto the streets of the slums, an eerie sense of awareness washed over him. He had walked these streets countless times since childhood, but for some reason, today felt different.

He saw it all—the true ugliness of the world he lived in.

The streets were filled with broken-down shacks and crumbling buildings, the air thick with the stench of sweat, filth, and rotting garbage. The ground was uneven, littered with shattered glass, rusted metal, and discarded scraps of food.

Children lay on the ground, their eyes hollow, their ribs visible beneath their skin. Their small hands trembled as they reached out for passersby, begging for even the smallest scrap of food. Some had already given up, lying motionless in the dirt, their faces blank and lifeless.

Women lined the alleyways, their faces painted with fake smiles, their bodies sold for a few miserable money just to afford their next meal. Some stood with dead eyes, resigned to their fate, while others barely clung to whatever dignity they had left.

Men, who should have been working, sat on the sides of the streets, guzzling cheap beer from dented cans. Their eyes were glazed over, drowning in despair, their drunken laughter masking the hopelessness within.

"Where the hell did they even get the money for that" Pralaya thought, with a disgusted look

The deeper he walked into the slums, the more the reality of his world suffocated him.

"This is the life of the lower class... This is the world he was born into."

For some reason, he had never truly noticed how wretched the slums were. Perhaps he had grown numb to it. Or maybe he had been too focused on his own survival to care.

His lips curled into a sneer.

"This world is beyond broken

But he shook off the dark thoughts.

"I need to find a place to test my power ''

Then, an idea struck him—the junkyard.

A massive wasteland where the middle class and the wealthy dumped their unwanted trash. For the lower-class citizens, it was a gold mine of discarded furniture, old machines, and anything that could be salvaged.

It was also the perfect place for him to test his power.

When he arrived, he could already see people digging through the piles of garbage.

Men, women, even children—all of them scavengers, all of them searching for something valuable enough to sell or use.

Some had spent their entire lives doing this, surviving off the scraps thrown away by the rich. Others had once been middle class before they lost everything, now reduced to scavengers.

Pralaya ignored them and made his way deeper into the junkyard, heading toward a place where no one would see him.

As he walked, a man dressed in rags bumped into him.

"Sorry, kid," the man muttered with a weird smile before walking away.

For some reason, Pralaya felt something familiar about him.

The way the man moved, his body structure, the way he vanished into the junkyard —it all felt like something Pralaya had seen before.

But no face came to mind.

Dismissing the thought, he pushed forward, finally reaching the deepest part of the junkyard, a place where no one ever went.

Here, he would finally test his abilities without interruption.